Sick Day
by QueenOfSpain
Summary: This is the story I'm using for the illness contest by Kari. Uh, Holmes gets sick. It's AU


Hey all! This is the story for the illness contest. I know it gets to the point slowly, but oh well. I promise I'll get there eventually. If it cuts off in a weird place, I'm sorry. I'm sure y'all know (if you've read any of my crap) that I post just to get it posted. You know, a time- saving thing.or something. I want this up before I start school, so this is hasty. I'm going to stop making stupid excuses and just get on with the story---  
  
((Holmes's POV)) **Dream Sequence**  
  
Holmes Sr. threw Mrs. Holmes to the ground and began beating her senseless. Sherlock started forward to help her, but one drunken glare from his father backed Sherlock against the wall. Sr.'s attention now averted from his wife to his son, he began towards Sherlock, his large powerful hands clenching and unclenching. Sherlock edged his way towards the door as his father got menacingly closer and closer. After an eternity, Sherlock reached the door and turned the knob. He ran out the door and away from everything: his problems, his fortune, and most of all, his poor mother, a broken woman lying on the floor. **End**  
  
Sherlock Holmes awoke gasping for breath. He wiped sweat out of his eyes and pushed his soggy hair out of the way. He groaned and looked at the clock. 2:00 AM. There would be no more sleep for him tonight. Holmes sighed and shook his head. He wasn't sure how long he could last with these sleepless nights before something gave in. Holmes cleaned himself up, and went to the kitchen to make some tea and settle in for a long morning.  
  
____________________________________________________________________________ __  
  
Watson rolled her lazy self out of bed around 7:00 AM. She shuffled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed.  
  
"Morning," Holmes greeted her from the couch that was placed in front of a television in the kitchen. (They were there on Watson's request. She claimed it was convenient, especially snack-wise, and Holmes tended to agree.)  
  
Watson looked at Holmes like he had a third arm. "You're bloody chipper for 7 AM."  
  
"I've been up since 2. OO, cartoons!"  
  
"Since when have you liked cartoons?"  
  
"Since I've seen the early morning programs. Mind- numbingly boring."  
  
She shrugged. "Whatever, you crazy boy." She opened the fridge and snorted. "No Mountain Dew."  
  
"We had to cut back. Drink coffee; it's cheaper."  
  
Watson stuck out her tongue. "Bleh. That crap tastes like mud. Perhaps SOMEONE should get a job, so I can have my caffeine." It's not like she could blame him for being between jobs. Watson was always having him run around to buy groceries, or to solve her hard cases that came into her detective's office. He picked up work loads, but he hated the PD and refused to get a job there. Watson was usually able to support the both of them. Usually.  
  
"Hey Holmes, 'Ol buddy, 'ol pal, guess what you get to do today?" Watson rummaged through the cubbards in search of food.  
  
"Left, second shelf," Holmes directed her without turning around. "I don't think I like that tone of voice---"  
  
"You get to come with me to the station!"  
  
Holmes mumbled as he went to clean up. "Why can't you do you own bloody work? You're like that bully that made me do his homework so he wouldn't beat me up---"  
  
An hour or so later, after Watson had primped and Holmes got slicked up, the two were in Watson's office, sorting through her 6ft tall in-box.  
  
Watson was flipping through the folders. "What can we find for you--- Ah, here we go. There's this questionable suicide that looks like murder because---" She went on about it, and at the end of her LONG spiel looked up from her papers to see Holmes head bent over the folder. "So what do you think?" No reaction. "Holmes?" Still no. Watson crept over and touched his shoulder---  
  
Holmes jumped about a mile in the air. "Oh yes, um, good work Watson. I'll look over this later."  
  
"Morning hon. Am I really that boring?" Watson smiled.  
  
He rubbed his eyes in effort to clear away the sleep. "No, it's not you. It's just that I haven't been able to get much sleep lately."  
  
"You don't have to stay with me today. I'll save this for you and you go home and sleep."  
  
His manly chivalry getting the best of him, Holmes declined. He knew that she actually needed his brains desperately, though she said she didn't. "I'm okay. I may nap when it's more convenient, but I'm good now." He was hoping that "convenient" was rather soon, because he was getting that nagging headache you get when you stay awake for too long, the kind that won't shut up until you sleep for an eternity and ½.  
  
"You'll be getting that chance shortly. We're going for a car ride."  
  
Holmes got up slowly and stretched himself out, growing a few inches in the process. "Sounds good."  
  
As soon as the two were in the car and belted in, Holmes lied his head back, and fell asleep in no time. Watson, from time to time, glanced over to him. He was so innocent when he slept, so peaceful. He looked just like a child. Watson smiled to herself: *Holmes would kill me if he found that out* . She was also glad that he was finally getting some sleep. The lack of sleep had really been taking its toll on him. He looked pale and ragged, and though he hid it well, Watson could read him like an open book. She just hoped that now that his immune system was down, he wouldn't catch anything. Holmes wasn't accustomed to being sick. 


End file.
